The White Lilac
Chapter One: Caryn
If
I do this I will only have one week left to live. I stand near the edge of the
practice aquarium unable to step forward. My heart pounds in my chest at the
sight of the gray water and I am overwhelmed by the desire to hyperventilate again.
“Caryn,
you need to focus,” Seventh Official Anderson says from somewhere behind me.
“Are you listening?”
I
swallow and nod, but I can’t take my eyes off the water. He steps between me
and the aquarium and my focus readjusts to his dark blue suit and buttoned
shirt. His tie is missing, like usual, probably stuffed in his pocket and his
brown hair has been brushed through with his fingers one too many times so it
sticks out beyond the dress code allowance. The dress code is not always
enforced, but for today with so many important people watching, it could get
him in trouble. The practice aquarium may look empty, like any other day we
practice here, with its white concrete walls and quiet, stone floor leading
from the entrance, surrounding the aquarium track, and ending at the showers, but
I’ve seen the rooms that ring around the tinted glass of the underwater track
and I imagine they are filled with people. All those people stuffed in rooms,
unable to move freely, needing air.
“Listen,”
Anderson says, snapping me back. “I know this is the Tournament and you are
racing for the position, not for practice, but you need to breathe. I don’t
want to carry you to Dr. Vos’ office today. Close your eyes and concentrate.”
The
air in my chest shakes its way out of me as my eyelids close, yet the water
still seems to glitter before me and the vice around my lungs keeps me from
breathing in. I can’t help remembering the day Heather drowned four years ago.
The sensations are too real, the weight of the water, the lack of oxygen, the
sense of helplessness. All my nerves are on fire and already I can feel the
water around me, suffocating me like it did her.
“Relax.”
Anderson touches my shoulder. “If you want to lose, this fear will be the
perfect excuse.”
“I
don’t want to lose,” my voice whispers as I inhale. Silently I repeat this to
myself over and over until I can breathe without shaking. I can’t lose, not
after what I have done. I let Heather drown. I failed her when she needed me
most, but I won’t fail again. It has to be me. It is the only way to make
things right.
“Good,
then keep breathing. This is not going to be easy, both May and Janissa want
this and they have been training just as hard as you have. If you falter, they
will beat you, but you are faster, stronger and more agile.”
“And
I’m older,” I say. My back straightens and my breath steadies and deepens. I
open my eyes to see Anderson’s face soften.
“You
are older, but not by much. They know what they’re doing. You are not
responsible for what happens to them, or for what happened to Heather.”
Anderson
has said this before, but when he arrived the day of the drowning, Heather was
already dead. Perhaps if he had seen how long I froze watching her suck in
water or if he knew how my finger hovered over my panic button unable to press
it, he would disagree. Or perhaps he would think differently if he knew she
would smile at me as we walked to the pools, my thin body barely fitting in my
swimsuit and my brow creased, and she would say, “Don’t worry about your time, just
make me proud today.” It is all I ever wanted to do. It’s the only reason I’m
here today, because if Heather were still alive she would be here and she
wouldn’t want May or Janissa to die gathering the cure. But Heather’s not here
and it falls to me to protect May and Janissa, even from themselves. It’s what
Heather had done for me and I inherited the job.
I
see Eighth Official Rafferty yelling in May’s ear while she nods and rolls her
shoulders back to loosen her muscles. She’s thirteen and a half, but because of
her shorter height, she could pass herself off as ten, at least that is what I
have heard the staff here say. Janissa is taller, almost my height, even though
she just turned thirteen a month ago. Her goggles are already in place as she
bends over to touch her nose to her knees. Tenth Official Jones keeps patting
her back, motioning at the water and pointing at the scoreboard. He is sweating
and I see his lips form the word win again and again.
I
don’t really know either May or Janissa very well and it’s my fault. Sure we
work out together, have similar schedules, and are all focused on the same
goal, but I stand here realizing it has been years since we just talked about
normal stuff. Probably before we were given individualized trainers, and that
is my fault too. I was the one who testified that Second Official Whit would
train Heather and me for sixteen hours a day and when they disbarred him they
also ruled that the same official could not train all of the candidates. From
that day on we were all given our own trainers and no longer spent as much time
together. Plus there is a bond between May and Janissa, much like the closeness
I felt to Heather, only now Heather is not here.
I
drag my eyes away and stare up at the metal rafters above me glistening with
moisture. It is as if I am already encased under the water.
“I
hate this aquarium,” I say to Seventh Official Anderson.
“I
know.”
“I
hate the course.”
“You
still have to swim it today. There’s nothing I can do about that. Everyone has
to do things they hate, even me.” He pauses a moment before going to double
check that the contents of my equipment bag are correct. Then he takes my
warm-up jacket and places it on one of the chairs along the wall. “Not everyone
expects you to win.”
“I
expect it to be me,” I say softly, but I doubt he hears me. I swing my arms in
large, fast circles and take deep breaths. Just twice more and I will never
have to do this again. And I will make Heather proud.
I
walk back to the chairs, take the swim cap Anderson is holding out to me, and
carefully tuck my shoulder length, blond hair into it. He hands me my goggles
and says, “Try to relax.”
I
hear the water lapping against the side of the aquarium and I think this is as
relaxed as I am going to get. I try not to remember how it feels when the water
flows over my head and the sense that I may never come back up that washes over
me. I can do this.
“Ladies
and gentlemen welcome to the Beta Earth Compound’s 15th Bicentennial
White Lilac Competition,” Sixth Official Richard says. His voice echoes against
the walls and makes the water droplets along the rafters tremble. Like our
audience, Richard is also in one of the rooms below. He’ll be monitoring the
cameras posted throughout the practice aquarium and is one of the judges along
with the first five Officials, two for each of us.
“The
winner of this competition will be appointed the White Lilac title and in one
week will gather the Haydon cure. The course they will swim is a smaller
version of the real aquarium, also located here in the east side of the
Compound, and is designed to replicate the same issues they would face if they
were actually collecting the Haydon cure. The contestants will be timed to see
how far they can go in a single breath. The test of the single breath is a
standard evaluation for a candidate’s gathering capabilities. They will also be
judged on how efficiently they can gather during that time. Seconds will be
taken away for every mistake or hesitation they make and the contestant with
the longest time will win. Officials, prepare your candidate.”
In
a fluid movement with the other trainers, as if they have practiced this
together, Anderson offers me an oxygen hose and I place the mask over my mouth
and nose breathing pure oxygen in deep, slow breaths. Although I can hold my
breath unnaturally long without an oxygen aid, a by-product of all the splicing
done to my DNA before I was born, the overdose of oxygen helps me to remain
alert and focused as well as increases how long I can hold one breath. My body is
used to collecting and storing oxygen and I can feel my lungs widening.
I
use four of the five breathing techniques we are taught to help our bodies
store oxygen. I first breathe in through my nose and out with my mouth in short
bursts and I end with long breaths in through the mouth and slow bursts out. Richard’s
voice continues in the background, explaining the details of the tasks, a brief
history of the Compound, and statistics about the Haydon cure, all details I
have heard so many times before I could quote them in my sleep.
When
the first Earth colonists landed on Beta Earth they saw a fertile land waiting
to be cultivated, but they weren’t the first living creatures here. In the
lakes there was the jigger, a dark brown fish that grew to be ten feet long,
and on a normal day it seemed fairly harmless, it would only attack if it
sensed a threat or if another fish entered its territory. For most of the year
it was easy to forget these fish were there, but once every eighty years,
during the jigger’s mating season, they released a toxic dust into the air that
is much stronger than all previous years. The jiggers do this as their way of
attracting a mate and showing their superiority over other jiggers. The year
the first colonists arrived was one of the worst years recorded. The dust
coated everything and that was when the colonists started to get sick and die.
Something had to be done.
Through
a combined effort the Haydon cure was discovered to counter the effects of the
jigger dust, though only a few of the first colonists survived, and the secrets
of the cure were passed on to other scientists who founded the Compound; a
community dedicated to studying the indigenous life on Beta Earth, gathering
the Haydon cure, and advancing in medical science. The cure was discovered in
the cells of the jigger, but only jiggers who had been in contact with human
DNA while they were still eggs.
The
problem was that the jiggers laid their eggs inside a deadly fresh water
anemone with a pattern of white lilac blossoms on their tentacles. The anemones
would clean the dust off the fish’s scales while the eggs were laid and would
form a protective cover around them with small enough holes that the baby fish
could escape once they hatched. The tentacles would only open if a living
creature coated with jigger dust approached it. But everyone who touched an
anemone died, perhaps not right away. Some lingered for days. But everyone died
and the Compound took over the gathering process to reduce the number of times
the cure had to be gathered. They trained their own candidates and maintained
the cure supplies.
This
is the first time in two hundred years that the cure has to be collected. I
flex my toes mentally testing the muscles in my legs. The officials give us a
solid five minutes of air, this on top of the hour of oxygen we had earlier
this morning, before Anderson and the other trainers come to take the masks
away. My breathing exercises have calmed most of my jitters and I am mentally
primed to race.
Richard
continues, “Today’s contestants have been prepared for this moment from before
they were born. In lane one and wearing the red stripe is Caryn Tobin.”
I
step up to the edge of the Aquarium and raise my right arm in a quick wave.
“In
lane two and wearing the green stripe is Janissa Cordova.”
Smiling
up at the cameras on the walls, Janissa waves both of her hands, turning so
each side can see her face. I half expect to see her blow kisses.
“And
in lane three wearing the blue stripe is Amaya Saladin.”
May
does not even acknowledge the hidden crowd, instead she steps up to her mark
and stares down into the water, completely focused.
“You’re
going to be fine,” Anderson says in my ear. “If you start to panic, think about
the Compound. Our purpose is more important than anything, or anyone. You were
born for this.” He places the strap for my equipment bag over my head and rubs
my shoulders trying to loosen the tension.
“Ladies
take your mark,” Sixth Official Richard’s voice says over the loud speaker.
I
step onto my mark and adjust my goggles over my eyes, preparing to dive into
the water. The red flag for my first stop is nearly twenty feet deep and I can
barely see it through the goggles’ lens and the moving water.
“Are
you ready? Set….”
All
of the muscles in my legs are ready to spring and my eyes are starting to dry
from staring at the flag below. I can feel Sixth Official Richard’s word
gathering in his mouth, poised in the air around me. My ears tingle as they
wait for the sound of the bell. I know better than to look over at May and
Janissa one last time, but I can’t help it. They are waiting on their marks,
the water the source of their undivided attention. The task ahead of them is
all they are thinking about, but my mind is scattered.
“Go!”
The bell rings and I watch them dive off the
platform in perfect unison.
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